


Rebirth

by Saraku



Series: Fire In Our Eyes [3]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Birthday, Gen, Happy birthday birb, Implied/Referenced Abandonment, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Team as Family, hope oda treats you good in the manga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 20:16:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8223506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraku/pseuds/Saraku
Summary: Marco disliked his birthday; it caused (unnecessary) chaos, gave him migraines, and brought back memories he'd rather not have. A new year often caused new chaos, and their latest addition for the year is making Marco paranoid.





	

Marco flicked the clock on his desk into silence before groaning, rubbing his eyes blearily.

Shifting, he got off his bed and stretched, eyes squinted from the light bearing through the drawn curtain. As he was drawing the curtain open, a sudden jolt of realization hit him.

 _October 5 th_.

Marco groaned and let his head fall into palm of his hands, sitting back down on his bed. A deep sigh escaped him; massaging his temple, he contemplated his course of action: stay in his room the entire day, or face it like a true Whitebeard Commander would.

“… Damn,” he muttered. “There’s no escaping it, is there?”

Pursing his lips, he sighed and got off his bed; grabbing his items, he exited his room and made sure that the door was locked, because Thatch was _not_ to be trusted and Marco just knew that Haruta was in on it. Marco was more worried about Ace, because the logia could easily be on his side before deciding to dump a bucket of glitter on him. The Phoenix knew they were doing it for a good reason (that wasn’t just for ridiculousness), but he still couldn’t help but feel… _annoyed_.

His fists clenched thinking about his birthday; he had bad memories of them as a child, and no matter how many years he’d been apart of the Whitebeard Pirates, no matter how much Whitebeard tried to erase those memories, Marco couldn’t help but _hate_ his birthday.

Shaking his head to clear away any potential memories, his mind was taken by their newest addition.

… Their newest addition, which Marco hadn’t seen face-to-face in three days.

Marco supressed a sigh; it was normal for crewmembers not to see each other for periods of time, but Ace preferred to hang out with him or Thatch, and could easily find them. The fact that Marco had seen the logia ‘discreetly’ following him around. Now that Marco thought about it, he’d last faced Ace when the teen asked to see his Zoan form.

Stopping in front of Whitebeard’s door, Marco rubbed his face tiredly. “I’m regretting that decision…”

As he raised a hand to knock on the door, a loud _thud_ approximately fifteen away from him caught his attention; his eye twitched when he realized that Thatch was holding long strips of cloth from his hands, and his body was tangled in them. The chef and Phoenix had a staring contest for a brief moment before the former grinned sheepishly and scrambled to untangle himself. Marco sighed and knocked on the door.

“Enter,” his father’s voice rumbled through the wood. Marco did so and closed the door behind him, making sure it was shut. Whitebeard’s features displayed an amused grin with twinkling eyes. “What is it, son?”

“It’s going to be a long day, Oyaji.”

 

~~*~~*~~

 

There were times he hated being right.

This…

This was _not_ one of them. It had something to do with the fact that he was actually wrong.

Marco _knew_ he was being paranoid, but anyone in his situation would feel the same. Normally, he’d be bombarded by pranks and birthday wishes from the moment he woke up to 0900 the next day.

It was nearly sundown and Marco had yet to get _either_. In fact, Marco hadn’t as much heard or seen a _hint_ of whatever Thatch was planning, except for that failed ‘decorating’ he had been doing earlier.

A part of Marco felt… off. He couldn’t properly identify what it was, nor the root cause of it, but it had been bugging him since lunch and it had yet to disappear. A feeling on unease washed over the commander, accompanied by another feeling he had felt constantly before he was taken in by Whitebeard.

 _Abandonment_.

Marco pursed his lips as someone knocked on his door. “It’s open,” he said.

The door opened slightly, revealing Izou. Marco raised an eyebrow in question, and Izou responded with a sly smile; Marco felt something akin to dread rise. “What is it, Izou?”

“Dinner,” Izou responded curtly, giving him a pointed look before slipping the door close behind him. Marco blinked blankly at Izou’s blank statement. With a sigh, he took off his reading glasses and pressed his palm to his eyes tiredly before leaving his room.

…

There were days when Marco considered his senses failing him.

This was one of those days, because somehow, the commander didn’t see the party coming.

(He’d argue it’s because nothing had happened the entire day, and he’d been in his room for only two hours. Not nearly enough time to prepare.)

The moment he stepped out of his room, he’d been dragged away by Haruta towards the front deck only to be then splashed with liquor – “That’s going out of your budget, Thatch.” – before a pillow fight ensued. Marco had the pleasure to chase the chef around until he managed to pin him to a mast and tear holes into his hair before changing clothes.

Now, Marco was sitting on the floor, back to the wall as he watched the celebration. The plan to make him paranoid was apparently _Jiru_ ’s, which Marco found utterly ridiculous but then recalled how mischievous the man could be as well, and decided he’d get them back later with a much more savage revenge than he normally did. Marco tensed slightly when he felt the familiar presence of flame sit beside him.

Ace looked at him curiously. “So,” Marco began, “where’ve you been the last three days, yoi?”

The freckled pirate grinned. “Just, uh, doing my own thing. You know. The Second Division does a lot of assistance, so…”

Marco rolled his eyes at the weak excuse Ace gave, and moved to whack the younger male at the head. Ace whined briefly before he rustled something behind him – was that always there? – and took something out.

“Happy birthday, Marco!” Ace said, tilting his head and smiling towards the commander. He held a thin, wrapped package in his hands, holding it out to Marco. The older male blinked before reaching out a hand to grasp the package, one eye trained at the freckled pirate in suspicion before rolling his eyes and jerking his head in another direction.

“Come on, Ace,” Marco said, turning around and letting Ace follow him. He proper the package underneath his arm as he looked towards Ace, who only tipped his head in response, before climbing up the crows nest and slumping down the wall. The younger pirate joined him moments later, nudging the commander.

“Now, I won’t get mad if you don’t like it, but I would like to see your reaction, you know,” Ace said, leaning onto Marco’s side, and the latter narrowed his eyes before his hands trailed along the packaging to find the place it was tied up on so he wouldn’t damage the item inside.

He found the sections where everything was tied together and unfurled the ties, setting them aside before unwrapping the paper. His eyes were more focused on setting the items someplace he wouldn’t forget it was there, so when he looked at the unwrapped gift, his eyes widened as he took in the item.

He held a standard eight-by-eleven canvas, the background a midnight blue with a pale, almost golden, yellow not in the middle, but by the side of where the _Moby Dick_ was painted onto. It was the almost perfect replica of his Zoan form that had enthralled him; the blue’s were brighter than the background, instead of midnight, it was fluorescent and translucent, and the gold accents of the Phoenix lit up the area, almost like a sun. The perfect replica of the _Moby Dick_ in the background framed along the Phoenix, clearly pointing to make it be the focal point.

Something blossomed in the older pirate’s heart; a warmth he didn’t know that existed. Marco didn’t even realize that he was tensed, and suddenly felt the tension melt away from him. His eyes wandered around the painting before finally resting on the face of the person who gave it to him; Ace gave him a heartwarming grin. Marco let out a light chuckle.

Maybe his memories about his birthday could be rebirthed with new ones after all.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone wants my idea of Marco's backstory, by all means, ask about it~  
> If more than... three people want it, I'll consider making it a story.
> 
> Artist!Ace?? Why yes, I seem to recognize this idiot. I've been influenced by my own story, RIP.
> 
> Is this MarcoAce?? Platonic MarcoAce?? Well, y'see, that's up to reader interpretation (I hope I did it justice). Feel free to dig deeper if the reader wants a romantic relationship!


End file.
